For the Dry Places.

I sing to the dry places.
His voice gushes from my lips, 
pouring over the desert, 
refreshing the weary. 
I laugh with Him in harmony;
He is here. 
He has not forgotten.
Reverberating from the corners of the earth,
bouncing from ghettos to plains and skyscrapers to sea, 
our voices join in a whirlwind, a crossroads. 


I sing to the dry places.
I spew red dirt and sod, 
Choking for breath,
Grasping for hope.
My tongue, scorched and crumbling--
He touches it. 
I don't thirst any longer.
Resonating from the well within me,
rippling from the tips of my fingers to the mouth of another,
we send out a message for the one, the hundreds.


I sing to the dry places. 


"I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord. Be strong and take heart, and wait for the Lord." - Psalm 27:13-14